


Finite

by SBlackmane



Series: Dragon In The Storm [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dragon Language, Elder Scrolls Lore, F/M, Human Alduin, Mortal Alduin, Skyrim Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlackmane/pseuds/SBlackmane
Summary: Brianna Trevelyan has been named Inquisitor, and her followers are making themselves comfortable in their new home, Skyhold.But the stranger in black that has come to serve her has left her confused, and more curious than ever of his origin. While the others are content to give the frightening warrior some space, Bri is hell bent on discovering who Alduin is.But Alduin has his own set of problems to deal with. Bri is no formidable warrior, and the World Eater is bound and determined to bring out her own inner dragon, as he struggles to keep his secrets, and continues to suffer his Finite existence in Thedas.





	1. Blessing Of Kyne

**Author's Note:**

> Dragon Language courtesy of Thuum.org, is subject to change. Translations provided in End Notes.

**KogaanSe Kaan-Blessing Of Kyne**

_Because you need me_...  
   
She swallowed harshly when Alduin had said that. The sound of his voice. The way it made her skin tingle. Her mouth went dry, and she couldn't speak.  
   
Oh, it was useless to deny. She couldn't escape it. The way her heart had pounded in her ears at those words. The _way_ he had said them. Softy, but firm in his stance, as if pledging himself to her right then and there with such simple words. Her knees went weak at those words. She wasn't sure why she felt so uncomfortable with it, as obviously she found him attractive, but...There was something about him though. Something that perturbed her. So she banished the thought from her mind.  
    
She felt like she was betraying Cullen, for a moment, thinking about Alduin. Odd, considering she wasn't actually in a relationship with Cullen. But though they had little time to discuss it, and much more concerning matters always lie at hand, there was no denying the attraction between Bri and the Commander. She was sure everyone else at Haven could see it too.  
   
She wondered how Cullen would feel, should he learn that Brianna actually... _swooned_ , a little, in favor of the stranger that had rescued her, with long dark hair, like silk spun from ebony...Oh by the Maker. She palmed her face in embarrassment at such thoughts before she raced across the courtyard.

Though...did it really matter? It wasn't as if she were married; should she really feel guilty for just swooning? What was the harm? She'd yet to so much as _kiss_ the fair haired former Templar, and their forms of affection so far had been limited to flirtatious banter, innuendo, and awkward smiles and glances. It wasn't as if she belonged to Cullen, right?

Maybe...maybe she should just wrap her arms around him and kiss him already, and perhaps that would strike Alduin from her thoughts.

Regardless, she really shouldn't be thinking about him in that way. He was a stranger she knew nothing about.  
   
And he still frightened her. He had not outright denied that it was he who caused the hellfire of smoldering rocks to reign down from the skies at Haven. He did not deny that it was he who had driven away Corypheus. He was no mage, but...this otherworldly power of his...Oh how she was glad he had come to save her, and not kill her.  
   
But he had yet to earn her complete trust. Perhaps with a little digging, somehow, she'd know whether or not she really could. She certainly _wanted_ to trust him. He was quite valuable, with his power, and apparently his skills as a warrior as well.  
   
But his eyes...so strange. Like ice; cold, vividly white, and frozen solid. So inhuman.  
   
She would tell no one that it was him. No one should know what he did at Haven. People might think he was some sort of abomination, and unless he really was one, it would be a shame to persecute him for possessing power people didn't understand. She knew what that felt like. People may fawn over her now, but before all that she'd been persecuted by the Chantry, branded a traitor, a murderer, for possessing the Anchor.

And things were bad enough as is; wrought with rifts, political intrigue in Orlais, the fact that corrupted Templars in league with the Elder One at Therinfal had learned that someone planned to assassinate the Empress of Orlais. She couldn't be certain if they were connected to it, or if it were a plot configured by the mages in Redcliffe, or the Elder One's plan, but they had certainly been interested in it.  
   
Though the note she had found gave no clue as to who specifically would kill her, or when. As to the reason why? To cause chaos. Which certainly sounded like something Corypheus would play a hand in. Add that to the possibility that the Wardens that went missing were also corrupted by the Elder One? An army of them? That would mean war against them.  
   
War against Grey Wardens, when all she had to go on was a hunch, for the most part, vague information relayed from an exiled Warden? She trusted Marian's information, but how much trust could they put in the Warden's?

Not to mention an army of rebel mages, caches of Red Lyrium, and Venatori to add to the list of distresses.  
   
The last thing anyone needed was to know that among them was a man that could very well destroy all of Skyhold, if he so chose, with merely a word spoken. Best she could do to reassure herself was to keep in her mind that Alduin had saved her from certain death, and pledged to obey her every command. Of course, that disturbed her as well. She refused to be anyone's _master_.  
   
Inquisitor perhaps, leader and commander of an army that pledged to aid in restoring order, sure...But the master of a slave? No, she would be no such thing...She debated upon Alduin simply misunderstanding instruction given. That maybe he was meant to serve her in similar fashion as Cassandra served the Inquisitor, not gravel at her feet and follow her every step and watch her like a hawk the way he had so far.

Well, maybe 'graveling at her feet' was a slight exaggeration.  
   
The Trevelyan family was distantly related to the people of Tevinter. The Tevinter Imperium enslaved the elves of Thedas, and how it sickened her that she was even remotely close to that, by another possibly being enslaved to her. Not pledged to the Inquisition, nor to her as she was now Inquisitor, but... She refused to believe that was how the Maker saw fit for him to behave. An abomination of a thought to her. Though maybe she was overreacting.  
   
Thank the Maker he wasn't an elf. That would be hard to explain to people.   
   
She would get to the bottom of it, one way or another. She would find out exactly why he was sent to her, in what capacity she 'needed him', and do everything in her power to liberate him. Perhaps that was what it was. He was tasked with serving her, and it was a test of her own will. That she would release him from service, grant him his freedom, and perhaps in some small way, it would be a bit of justice served in defiance of her ancestors.

To right their previous wrongs. Or, at least, that was how she was beginning to see it.  
   
For the moment, she would continue to sink arrows into the mud behind her target, and lament over her pitiful lack of skill with a bow. How she hated to confess to someone how weak she felt, but...Alduin proved to be a good listener. He did not deny her weakness, or shower her with praise, fawn over her like the others seemed inclined to do. Merely suggested she learn to fight.

Well, learn to fight she would then. Maybe she just needed the right teacher. And then she could be free of her need for Alduin.  
   
Her _need_ for him...She blushed at such thoughts that came to mind.

"You need to do something about your creepy friend," came a voice, and Bri looked down to see Varric at her side.

"What did Cole do now?" She asked as she resumed target practice.

"No, not the Kid," he said. "The new guy. What's-his-name. Tall, scary, speaks ominously? That one. Al-whatever."

"Alduin?"

"Yeah. He seems a...little _unhinged_."

"What did he do?" She asked.

"It wasn't what he did, it's just what he said. You might want to keep an eye on him. He has 'crazy psychopath axe murderer' written all over him."

She didn't know why, but the way Varric said that actually made her laugh. "I know, he's a little intimidating, isn't he?"

"Understatement of the year," he remarked. "All I'm saying is...Be careful around that guy. And if you're going to let him stay, be sure he's on our side first."

* * *

The elf stepped into the main hall of the dilapidated castle and looked around. Walls crumbled, floors in disarray, though already there were people about, picking up the loose boards and assessing the mess for themselves. There was not enough manpower to take on such an enormous project, and everyone seemed well aware of this. Their expressions calm, but their eyes full of worry, added to the already present worries.  
   
But they would make do. Make the place liveable once more, one way or another.

Already, the Inquisition's advisers sent word to remaining Templars in Ferelden, and to Lady Josephine's noble allies in Val Royeux. Along with any that were stationed in the Hinterlands, the Storm Coast, and Fallow Mire, that could spare resources. Just that morning they recieved word, from Dennet at Redcliffe farms, who would be sending a league of forders, and some able bodied men that volunteered their services, himself included.  
   
Solas moved to lean against the doorway from the hall to the atrium, watching people carry out flecks of wood, and enter with crates of food meant for the stores on the lower level. Their remaining rations. He was just about to turn away, and enter the vestibule behind him when he saw another entering the keep.  
   
Dressed from head to toe in black, as dark as the raven hair on his head, scaled armor with a tear in the side, hardly noticeable, but enough of a tear to compromise the integrity of the intriguing cuirass. He towered over the others that scurried about, looking around the large room, eyeing the ceiling, and the large glass window at the head of the room, overshadowing the altar, illuminating the throne.  
   
His steps were slow, indeliberate, aimless as he soaked in the magnitude of the room. Seeing an oppurtunity for conversation, Solas walked quietly over to stand beside him, silently watching before Alduin finally noticed him. When he did, Solas carefully masked his intrigue with a cool and collected smile.  
   
"This place has a rich history, you know," he said evenly. "In its day, it was a grand architectural acheivement."  
   
"I've seen better," Alduin countered with an even, but not quite disinterested tone, provoking a smirk from Solas. Though he served the Herald of Andraste diligently, it seemed he was not without arrogance.  
   
"So have I," Solas remarked cheekily. "But, you must admit, there is no more fitting place for the grandness that will be the Herald's legacy, provided it sees proper repair. Do you intend on lending a hand?"  
   
"Do you?" Alduin turned to stare coldly at Solas.  
   
"I will do what I can. But I have already done enough," Solas narrowed his eyes.  
   
"I'm sure you have," Alduin said dryly. My, this creature had such convincing lack of emotion, in the elf's opinion. Or...was he actually Tranquil?  
   
"I find your mannerisms most intriguing," Solas remarked. "Is it part of your writ of servitude? Or akin to where you hail from?"  
   
"Where is the Undercroft?" Alduin asked then, abruptly changing the subject.  
   
"That way," Solas gestured to the correct door at the end of the hall, and with that, Alduin walked briskly that direction, the cape that draped over his armor billowing as he did so, with no more words to share with Solas. He wanted to laugh aloud. He was certain the man didn't like him. Though what interested him was... _why_? What was it about Solas that he didn't find favor in?  
   
When he had been but accomodating, and merciful, when he could've left him to die in the snow, but instead united him with his 'master'? Oh Solas couldn't wait to learn why. He was most certain that Brianna would tell him eventually. If not, perhaps dear Cole could grant him some insight, a clue perhaps, as to what made this man tick. For Solas desperately wanted to know. Enough to be tempted to find out for himself, if need be.

* * *

As soon as the door to the undercroft closed behind him, Alduin's muscles relaxed. As if he'd held his breath for too long and was now finally breathing air once again. That Solaas irritated him.  
   
The steps arced downward into the lower pit, revealing a cavern, man-made, that opened to the formidable weather beyond the borders of the keep. There was a platform, in which two sets of steps led down to the left and right of the room, and Alduin could see a man sitting on a stool, wiping sweat from his brow, taking a brief intermission from his struggle to put things together within the croft. Workbench and tools lay nearby, and an unlit furnace.  
   
"Damn flint," the man cursed, then threw a rock to the stone floor at his feet, as snow drifted across it. Then he huffed.  
   
"Are you Herrit?" Alduin asked, startling the man a bit. He nodded in confirmation.  
   
"Oy, I remember you," he rubbed his chin. "The man that braved the storm and brought the Herald of Andraste back to us." He rose to his feet. "An honor to meet. What can I do for you?"  
   
Alduin began unbuckling his armor, setting it piece by piece on the bench.  
   
"The Herald informed me that you could repair it," he said to him. Herrit shrugged.  
   
"If I knew what it was made of, sure...I suppose," he said, scratching his head.  
   
"Dragon hide," Alduin answered, betting his life on the morbid possibilty that they used his own skin to form that armor during his transformation. Herrit continued to examine.  
   
"Dragon skin, eh?" he remarked. "You kill it yourself? Pretty good handywork."  
   
Did he kill himself? Alduin had to think about that for a moment. Rather entertaining of a thought.  
   
"I suppose I could work with it," Herrit told him. "Some onyx might do the trick. Sturdy material. Leave that sword too. I'll sharpen it right up for ya. No charge. Consider it gratitude for doing your part to help restore the Inquisition by bringing us Lady Trevelyan." Herrit folded his arms, and nodded his head. Alduin shrugged and loosed the leather strap of his blade off his shoulders and lay it on the armor.  
   
"You're a blacksmith," Alduin stated the obvious. "You can forge blades."  
   
"Aye, that I can, best blades in the south, if I do say so misself...if I could ever get that blasted furnace lit," he muttered.  
   
It was no trouble for Alduin to stride over to the furnace, utter a Word of Power quietly, and light it aflame, leaning back out of the way when the flames roared to life, and Herrit quickly ambled over.  
   
"By the Maker," he said, as he stared at the flames. "Much...much obliged to you. I can certainly forge some bits now." He glanced up at Alduin.

The dragon couldn't quite read the human's expression.  
   
"Consider it gratitude for the pair of daggers you're going to make," he replied.

"Daggers, eh? Who are they for?" Herrit questioned.

"The Herald," Alduin answered.

Herrit chuckled. "Ah. I'd stake my life on her fairin' a lot better with a pair of dirks. Told her so, some months ago. But she wouldn't listen. Think she's a bit squeamish at the thought of gettin' up close an' personal."

Alduin ran his fingertips along the scales of his armor as Herrit spoke. Squeamish, he said. "She won't be when I'm done with her," he said. 

"Well, best of luck to you. I'll send someone for you when they're ready." He held out his hand to shake Alduin's. He tentatively accepted. This means of touching other mortals while communicating was irratating. But...intriguing. Much softer sort of people than even the mortals of Nirn, he contemplated absentmindedly. Alduin nodded his head, then departed from the blacksmith's company.  
   
He wondered, as he marched back up the steps, with lighter footing now that he only wore a shirt, pants, and boots, without his sword weighing on his back...if all humans in this land were as soft as they. Tragedy made humans of Nirn violent, left them in a state of unrest, invoking war. Blood spilt century after century in the name of the ones they called their Gods, fighting to claim the patch of dirt they lived, shit, and died on...But here? Were these people the same? He couldn't be sure.  
   
Here these people carried one another on their backs, and...showed humility. In the face of something meant to devour their world, a sunvaar, they _sang_. And they did not follow a mighty warrior, but instead they followed a young maiden with a soft heart. That was different. He didn't expect that. Was this the entirety of it?...Or was there more that separated them from his realm? He found himself suddenly very interested in learning the history of this one.

Other thoughts plagued him quite suddenly as well.  

Not too long ago, Alduin saw all mortals as weak, quick to end, and joor meant nothing more than a pestilence to stamp out if he could not control it.  
   
But now that he himself was joor, was his opinion meant to change? Was this what Aetherius planned? Gifting him with a vahdin for a superior?  
   
At the very least, he'd get the chance to see a new and different world, brought by this experience. He _felt_ brand new again, at the moment, clueless, and curious. It was...interesting. Especially when he thought of the Herald.

He pondered all that for a moment.  
   
Brii was praised as a hero, worshipped as a leader in an hour of need, when a veil of darkness would close over, and swallow them up, engulf them in flame, choke them in ash. Though she was weak in ways of war and combat...she was soft-hearted, and sympathetic. This did not make her weak...but instead, it made her the very opposite of a dragon's nature. It was that simple, really.  
   
Much like Et'Ada had their counterparts, 'benevolent' Aedra and the 'malevolent' Deadra. Like Mara, Akatosh, or Stendarr of mercy, the mortals called them, compared to the House of Trouble. He could not understand why she would see mercy as weakness, and not see that she was simply the opposing element, the water to fire. Where he desired to destroy, she desired to mend. To create...to grow.  
   
The fiber of being that Nords worshipped as Kyne. Kaan. The Cyrodiilans called her Kynareth. She held many other names as well, but just as she was the summer wind, she was also the winter storm. A force of fury and might. She gifted mortals with the Thu'um, in so proving her defiant nature, but the Herald had yet to show hers in battle. Brii was the eye of the storm, indeed, but she, herself, needed to grow.  
   
Brii confessed that she was weak, to him and him alone, in part because he had been the one to see her perceived weakness infront of the sunvaar. She gifted him with such knowledge, and so it seemed he could make use of it. He could remove her perceived weakness with instruction, just as he had with the sivaas, the Iron Bull. He could teach her to fight. 

Perhaps he was the only one there that could.

She reminded him of Kaan, and perhaps that's why the Aedra sent him to her, for she was the opposite of the World Eater's nature. And perhaps why he was drawn to her in the most unusual fashion.  
   
And perhaps his little Goddess of the Sky needed a Dragon to invoke her fury. And until she could, said dragon, Alduin, would guard her. He would be her storm until she found her own fury and fire.  
   
And hopefully he would be free of this body all that much sooner.

So that day he hatched a plan to teach Brii to fight as a dragon would, but not before seeking out the boy at Skyhold that might know his secret.


	2. Fear Is Obedience

**Faas Los Thaarn-Fear Is Obedience**

The sun set, and night descended upon Skyhold all too quickly.  
   
Bri met Bull in the tavern, just as he had asked, and after being fit into awkward Inquisition melee gear, riddled with holes and scratches from battle, and her flaming hair was discreetly tucked under an iron helmet, she strode outside with him to sit and drink with some soldiers. She said nothing, lest her voice give away who she was, and simply listened to the stories they had to tell.

Bri wasn't the only one who had never picked up a blade before the Inquisition.  
   
Some were farmhands, merchants, traders, pilgrims from the Chantry. Not all were Templars, trained in the ways of battle since their teens. But some were, though they were just as frightened by the magnitude of the Breach, the Rifts, and the Elder One. It made Bri feel better to know that she wasn't the only one who felt like the weight of the entire world was on her shoulders. In truth, the weight was on everyone's shoulders.  
   
Some more than others. Like the some that died at Haven, of which Josephine and Leliana already commissioned emissaries to erect a memorial in their name.  
   
As she listened, they talked about the Herald, and Bri saw exactly how people saw her. It was different, hearing her name spoken to her as if it were a different person. Bull greatly approved of her taking the time to listen, and bid her goodnight when they departed, patting her on the shoulder. She didn't mention to him how foolish it was that they believed in her like they did, but at least she knew she wasn't the only one who was afraid.  
   
She released a heavy sigh as she dressed once more in her brown leather scout coat, and pulled her boots up over her trousers. The tavern, Herald's Rest, they decided to call it, was already filled to the brim with folks, taking refuge from the bitter cold outside, slumping down on chairs, resting their heads on tables, some leaned against the wall as they reclined on the floor.  
   
Bri looked around at the room, seeing the faces of those who slept, ate their meager rations, or drank.

The tavern had some ungodly aged wine in it, left behind by whoever lived there before, the whereabouts of which Solas did not mention...wine that was so strong one could take a mere sip and feel dizzy. It warmed bellies, and drowned sorrows. Bri herself was about to ask for a drink, when she heard footsteps at the top of the stairs, and looked up to see a dark haired man descending them.

* * *

Alduin had left the Undercroft, in search of the fair haired child that could read minds, when he was stopped out in the hall by someone else.

Thankfully, not the Mer whose very existence vexed him. It was a woman with dark hair, brown skin, and a golden frock. If gold had a smell, he guessed that was what this woman smelled like. Rich, gleaming, and she darted right to him when she saw him, purposefully seeking conversation with him. Before she could say a word, he responded to her approach.  
   
"Yes, I am aware that I am the one who brought the Herald back," he stated in a dour, and exhausted tone.  
   
"I see too many people have been pointing that out," the woman said with a bit of a curl of the lip, though with wide eyes, and a nervous lilt in her voice. "Lady Josephine Montilyet," she curtsied. "I am Brianna's ambassador. I speak for the Inquisition when the Inquisitor herself is otherwise indisposed," she stated with a more confident voice.  
   
"Alduin," he introduced plainly. She didn't so much as bat an eyelash to his name.  
   
"A pleasure," she said. "I wonder if I might borrow a moment of your time."  
   
His time was better spent searching out the boy who could read minds, then searching out Brii, but...he resisted the urge to light her on fire, and nodded his head, though not without feeling his jaw clench in irritation.  
   
"Follow me, if you would," she said, gesturing to the door behind her. Meaning to talk without the ears of others to listen? This drew in curiosity on Alduin's part.  
   
"As you must know," she began when they entered the room beyond, "The Inquisition will need time to rebuild, as our resources are limited..." By Akatosh, this woman spoke the mortal tongue too fast..."And we are still too few in number to take on an enemy directly," She sat down at the desk while Alduin struggled to decipher her string of words, and her unusual voice, "Myself, Sister Leliana, and the Commander, of which you have met, surely you remember?" She paused, and Alduin could ony blink. "Right, well, we as her advisers must do all we can in the meantime to send word to allies, and bolster our numbers and...Well, I've had some difficulties and I wondered..."

She cleared her throat.  
   
"You wondered?" Alduin repeated, mainly so he could be sure that was actually what she said.   
   
"I have asked the Herald before if she would be interested in contacting her family in Ostwick, and she declined. Her reason of course was that she was disinclined to think,"...Why did his skull feel so tight inside his head? "...that they would be of any aid to us, as she had not spoken to them for many years, but...seeing as you are her...um...her servant? Yes? That you, perhaps, would be willing to contact her family in her stead?"  
   
Alduin let out a slight breath through his nose. She wanted him to contact the Herald's kin. He had no idea who they were. Or where Ostwick was.  
   
"We need every ally now more than ever. And maybe...just maybe, you could-"  
   
"No," he said bluntly. Though he could not tell the Herald 'no', he found some small satisfaction in the disappointment that washed over this woman's face when he could clearly decline her request at least. He relished in it for a moment. "If Brii were to instruct me to speak to them, I would do so. But I have been given no such order," he added.  
   
"Well...maybe you could convince her to speak to them?" she persisted, looking hopefully up at him. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned in close.  
   
"No," he said again. "Krosis," he amended, then realized his mistake. "Apologies," he corrected. The number of times he'd apologized to a mortal was growing. This was not enjoyable. "If she does not want to speak to them, then she does not want to speak to them. I cannot dissuade her, vahdin." he relented. She had leaned back in her chair, looking very bothered by him.  
   
"Well then," she huffed. "At least you're loyal, if nothing else. You can't say I didn't try at least...Do you not own clothing that isn't...nothing but black?" she asked suddenly. "The way you dress, add that to your ungentlemanly behavior...it's rather frightening, you should know." She wrinkled her brow.  
   
Ungentlemanly behavior?  
   
"People here are frightened of me?" he asked, she nodded.  
   
"While we are...grateful for what you have done for the Herald...it's uh, well, you should know...You're terrifying," she asserted. Then she wrung her hands.  
   
"Good," he said, standing up straight. "Fear begets obedience. They should fear me, should they choose to harm Brii, in any way, one red hair on her head...I would cut out their hearts and eat them for such offense."  
   
"That's absolutely revolting!" she gasped. "And...oddly, it's also rather...romantic." She stifled laughter, putting one hand over her mouth, and the other over her heart. Her face turned as red as Brii's hair. Then she ahemed. "A little morbid, but...well, clearly you have the best intent."  
   
Romantic? What was romantic? What did that word mean?  
   
Alduin nodded curtly to the woman, dismissing himself, before he became more confused, and troubled, by her conversation than he already was. He let out a slight groan when he closed the door behind him, shaking his head, attempting to shake off the odd feeling crawling down his spine. He then marched straight for the wide wooden door that led outside, in search of the young blond haired boy he aimed to interrogate.  
   
He was nowhere to be found outside, but there was a smaller building at the bottom of the steps in which candles burned, as the sun had set, and night fell upon the occupants. He pushed the door to the building open to hear a low rumble of conversation imbuing. If the boy was there, he was certain he would be far away from the others. He didn't seem to enjoy company, other than Brii's.  
   
He made a line directly toward the steps leading up and climbed them. Straining to put one foot in front of the other. Feeling the stitches in his side start to pull apart from his skin. He ignored it, and continued ascending the wooden staircase.  
   
At the top, a boy paced. Tufts of yellow hair jutted out from underneath a large hat. The boy was mumbling, and stood up right, staring straight at Alduin with overly large eyes, though the dragon had been sure he made no sound. Regardless, the boy knew he was there, and backed away when Alduin approached. Fear...he knew that look on a mortal's face. Fear was written all over this boy, he could almost smell it.  
   
" _Fire burns...burns everything away...and ashes fall instead of snow_ ," the boy mumbled. "You'll burn everything away...wont you?"  
   
Alduin stopped in his tracks. So the boy did indeed know what he was. He leaned his head to the side and eyed him carefully.  
   
"You know what I am?" he asked, though knowing the answer, he still wanted to hear it. "You needn't fear me, boy," he assured. "I will do no harm to one who is loyal to Brii."  
   
" _Brii...her name means beauty...flaming hair...skin as smooth as glass...a touch...a touch I cannot name...When I touch her skin I feel...something..._ " The boy suddenly stopped rambling, repeating things that sounded eerily familiar to the dragon.  
   
"So is it true then? You can peer into the minds of others?" Alduin asked. The boy turned away from him. "I am Alduin. What is your name?" he then asked, since everyone seemed so adamant about names. Relenting names begot familiarity, trust, like shaking a hand, he supposed. The boy didn't trust him yet. He fidgeted where he stood.  
   
"My name is Cole," he answered, moving to lean over the rail and watch the people below, much like Brii had done before confessing her weaknesses. "I can hear their pain. It's...so much...so loud...so much pain...their hearts, their heads, they ache. I try to help...but with you..." He scratched his head, fidgeting where he stood. "I can't...I can't understand it..." He turned around. "I won't tell her. You hope that I won't tell her. I don't want to lie to her, she's my friend. But I won't tell her. Because you don't want to hurt her. You want to help her."  
   
"Help who?" Alduin wrinkled his brow, wondering what part of this conversation was this boy speaking, or... _sensing_...or whatever it was.  
   
"'Beauty'." he replied. "If I tell her, it might hurt her. I don't want to hurt her. She needs you...but you need her too. To help you understand...At first I thought you weren't human. But...no, that's not it, is it? You're human, but...you don't know how to _be_ human...You can't...No. That's wrong." He shook his head. "You _can_ feel. But you don't know how...That's it. You don't know how to feel. Not yet." He hung his head. "That's why I couldn't help. Because I don't know either. That's how I know."  
   
Alduin leaned his head to the side, suddenly interested in this part of the conversation. What exactly _was_ this boy?  
   
"What do you mean I don't know how to feel?" he asked.  
   
" _Everything humans can feel_...You don't understand what they meant, because dragons don't have a word for it. But people do. You just need to know the word. And then you can learn to feel it."

Cole stepped closer.

"You need to know what she wants," he said. "What she feels. So you can feel it too... _Brittle like a breaking branch that will snap if someone steps on me...and no one...no one will..._ " He scratched his head, trying to find the words. Then he growled. "Ugh. It's so...so..." He sighed. Then he stood up straight. "She's here, she's downstairs," he said fervently. "You can ask her. She'll tell you how she feels. Go."

He waved his hands, ushering Alduin back downstairs.  
   
To see flaming red hair, fallen loose from its braid, and green eyes looking up at him when she heard his footsteps. Her expression was not a happy one, but it was not fueled by anger. Blank. Calm, serene. She waved for him to follow her.  
   
"Come," she said when he was close enough to hear. "Drink with me."  
   
Now _that_ sounded like an order at least. Close enough. Alduin let out a small sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't anger too many Cole fans. I won't lie, I absolutely adore Cole, but he's a very hard character to write. He will be in many chapters to come, as his character has a big impact on Alduin, and I sincerely hope I've done him some justice, at least.
> 
> *Hides from angry fans behind an angrier dragon*
> 
> Please don't hate me!

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Joor-'mortal'  
> Vahdin-'maiden'  
> Sunvaar-'creature' as in monster.  
> Sivaas-'creature' as in beast or animal.  
> Kaan-the dragon name for Kyne/Kynereth


End file.
